AT 6.15am, Private Ray Johnson woke, pushed back his camouflage-print doona and got up. It was already hot, despite the constant, noisy work of the airconditioner above his bed. He showered and, when he got back to the room, woke the other two men sleeping in the bunks beside the door. They went quickly through their morning routine: wash, dress, webbing, weapons, helmet, out.
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